The terror began immediately.
Scratching at the bedroom window, icy chills, voices speaking in empty rooms.
Then Fiona begins to suffer from blackouts - medical experts can't explain. Her eldest daughter, Harmony, is threatened by the appearance of...
First, you must forgive me for not writing sooner, but everything has been hectic around here. I can't remember the last time — I had a minute to call my own.
But now I finally do. It's time to write this thank-you letter.
Something I haven't done in a long time (and who the hell writes letters today?) It's all EMAILS and texts.
Even so, I will try my best to avoid any errors, but this is a thank-you letter; I'm writing — not a novel, so please excuse any grammar mistakes you might see.
First, you will be glad to hear we finally moved away from that house.
I can't tell you how good it felt to get away — from that place.
Despite the old man being gone, we could never get used to living there.
Every noise we kept hearing after that dreadful night, we kept thinking; the old man was making his way back.
Dumb, I know, but the haunting really fucked with our heads and the nightmares don't help, either.
I won't bore you with all the details, but in one of them, the old man was floating outside the bedroom window, and Steven, for a while, kept having the same dream. He was himself, but not himself. That's the only way I can describe it.
As you probably know, there are hundreds of articles on the web — saying the same thing. It's quite common for people to have nightmares after going through something terrible.
PTSD, I think that's what they call it. Although I could be wrong. But I'm sure Google will put me on the right track.
At least, our new home is old man free, and that's the way — we like it.
By the way, Harmony and Katrina are now back home with us. They're on a child protection plan, which means the social workers won't be out of our lives until the girls are eighteen. But at least we're together again.
I don't know what else to write — except I'm getting on with my life. We all are.
Once a week, I see a counsellor. You should see the strange looks she gives me when I describe what I went through in that house. What we all went through. I know she doesn't believe me. I can see it in her eyes.
Steven doesn't speak about the haunting. I think he wants to deal with it in his own way. But I think he should see someone because he sleepwalks.
He doesn't do it every night, but once I found him swaying by the bedroom window, and for a second, I thought he was levitating.
Of course, I know he wasn't. It just hard getting back to normal.
I suppose it will get easier in time.
For now, your good friend.
Fiona.
Thank you for everything.
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Note from the Author.
A year after, Fiona and Steven were both reunited with the girls. The family saw the publication of their story. The Richmond Haunting published.
Today the family now live a normal life, although occasionally, they do think about the house on Richmond Street.
